


From the Depths of the Shadows (I Rise)

by ShadowRealm



Series: Shadow Realm [2]
Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Aftermath of Hell, Explicit Torture, F/M, Hallucinations, Heaven, Hell, M/M, Magic (ish), Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of suicide attempt, PTSD Stiles, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Purgatory, Schizophrenia, Torture, more to be added later - Freeform, spells
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-08 07:03:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1931223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowRealm/pseuds/ShadowRealm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Stiles Stilinski takes his own life, well things go a little differently than planned. Rushing towards Heaven's Gates Stiles sees his Mother, his Father, but...then the ground opens up beneath him, his being pulled, grappled, and dragged down into the depths of the shadows. But being a Stilinski, Stiles takes it like a man, day upon day; month upon month; year upon year; decade up decade. The pits of Hell never give up, but neither does Stiles...</p><p>Will Stiles be able to weather through the torture until he is brought back, or will he give in and lay his weary head upon the guillotine set up for him, figuratively of course: you can't die when you're already dead. </p><p>(ON HIATUS. CURRENTLY EDITING THE PREVIOUS IN THIS SERIES. WILL CONTINUE SOON.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Burning

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second story in the Shadow Realm series so please go back and read the first one if you plan on reading this one, I'm not doing much of a 'Previously on Shadow Realm' so if you don't understand it then go back and read the first one, thanks. 
> 
> I also want to say that I do not own Teen Wolf, I don't know why any of you would assume that I do but if you do then I am very sorry to disappoint you. The same for Stiles and the rest of the characters in this story, except for Liam and Lucy McMyre I made them up, they're mine. 
> 
> Thanks for reading this and sorry the first chapter is so short, it's a bit like a preview into the next couple chapters I suppose. But the next chapter is roughly 10 pages long in Microsoft Word so it should be done within the next week and should be up by Tuesday, I'll try to post every Tuesday. 
> 
> **ALSO** 
> 
> I am going on Vacation from the 12th to the 26th of July, I am also going on vacation the week of the 11th of August. I am also going to camp from the 17th to the 23rd of August. So sorry for during my week of camp I will not be posting unless I can smuggle a computer in, or email the doc. to my phone and post it their. I don't know, but it's unlikely there will be a post then. As for the vacations I should still be posting during those but I probably won't be as reliable for being on time with them. Feel free to bug me for the next chapter, it should motivate me to do more.

Chapter one

Burning

Stiles

 

As luck and fate would have it I went to Hell. There, the secrets out, you can go tell everybody that the not-so-famous Stiles Stilinski went to Hell. Obviously I found this completely unfair; everything that got me to where I am was caused by the Nogitsune. But there isn’t much I can go to get me out of there, either. So I’m stuck here well I have been for a while but I’ll save that for later, stuck here with nothing but my own fears to entertain me.

It started out with me just terrorizing myself with what I thought would happen; I mean I had read all the folk-lore, and the local lore and all the lore between here and there. Basically I read a lot of lore.

While I was 15 I had gone through the whole ‘what-happens-after-death’ phase. So I read stories on Hell, Heaven, Purgatory, and then about oblivion. I read about Satan, God, Angels, Demons, Arch-Angels, The Knights of Hell, and a whole lot more. But I wholly believe that whatever you do up – err, on – Middle Earth gets you to where you deserve to go after you die.

Everybody’s Hell is different, just like everybody’s Heaven is different. I don’t know about Purgatory though, I’ve heard stories that it’s just a place between Heaven and Hell a sort of door to both.

Hell is a place of fiery torment, that much is true, but it’s also so much more. Hell takes your emotions and twists them and burns them until all hope is lost, all faith. Until the only thing that remains is your guilt, your fear, you anger and everything bad.

My Hell was very different, not that I could see other peoples. My Hell was a mixture of my guilt and of my fear. It all started off with my fears, they were twisted back on me…they were used against me. Brace yourself, as when I first went through this I was unprepared for the merciless wrath my Hell had given me.


	2. Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit Torture in this, so if that is a trigger for you please do skip this chapter. I don't want anything bad to happen to you, mentally or psychically.

Chapter two

Fear

Stiles

 

I sat in the small room, unaware of what to do. I held my tongue and looked around; searching for some way to escape what would soon to come. Suddenly four pipes appeared on the walls, I stared at them waiting for something to happen.

I waited for a few minutes before they started to creak, before they began to groan and shudder. Then with one final shake they began to pour water out. I gasped and pushed myself against the wall.

The water never stopped, never slowed, and never ever gives up on filling the room. The water was up to my ankles. I was frantically trying the stop the water from getting any higher but my efforts were futile. I took off my shirt and jammed it in one of the pipes. It simply disappeared and reappeared on my back once more.

I growled and tried to tear the pipes apart, that worked but it only caused the water to fall out more quickly. I roared and the walls shook, I looked down at my hands to see that the claws that had come out moments before were disappearing without me saying so. My teeth shortened and my ears shrunk back to the normal size they were in my human form. All of my werewolf attributes were gone and I couldn’t for the life of me get them back.

“NO!” I shouted pounding my fist again the eight foot long wall. The room was 8’-by-8’. The water had reached my knees know and I was struggling to not freak out.

One of my worst fears was drowning; I’ve had it since I was roughly 8 or 9 years old when I slipped and fell into my pool, hit my head and started inhaling water while I was unconscious. I was barely alive when my mom jumped in, clothed and all to save me. The last time I had touched a pool or lake was when the Kanima was around and I had to save Derek’s sorry ass.

I was brought back to reality as a fifth and sixth pipe appeared and the water began to glide up the walls at an alarming rate.

“Help!” I cried out as it reached my stomach and then the middle of my chest. I realized that there was no getting out. The water now reaching my shoulders was crawling up quickly. I shivered as the cold, cold water caused me to begin treading the water. I swam up to the top, I began gathering my breath as I went back down to try and stop the water once more, stuffing my shoes and clothing into the pipes.

The water had almost reached the ceiling so I went back up to the top and gather the last remaining air in the water-filled room. Being trapped underwater was the scariest feeling I had ever experienced. At least in a pool you had an open top with clear skies and space to move around if needed. But in here I was confined, the water was fairly clear, but there was no way to escape.

I was floating at the top in a last minute effort to stay alive a little while longer. I looked down at the wall just in time to see a window appear. I swam down to it, looking out and around. Scott was there, as was Lydia, Derek, Isaac, Kira, Aiden, Ethan...and my Dad.

“Help! Help me!” I screamed and pounded the window. The figures standing just outside in the air began to laugh. I screamed again but I stopped because I knew I was wasting the little air I had left.

My chest burned and cried for air but there was none for me. My head pounded and ripped everything apart with agony. I was dying. I began to fall unconscious but I knew that if I did that then I would let go of my air and inhale water. So I tried not to fall unconscious, it worked. But the feeling of one of my alters taking over began and I was left to watch as I inhaled gulp of water after gulp. Perhaps when I fell unconscious I was doomed to watch from the inside as I killed myself slowly.

My lungs filled with water and my limps began to feel as if I hadn’t breathed in quite a while, which I hadn’t. The water began to take out all of the air in my bloodstream, my organs slowly and painfully began to fail. Within a few more seconds I would’ve died. I closed my eyes and sank down to the bottom, taking one last gulp.

Suddenly I was dry, the room had gone, the water evaporated, I was alive…more or less. I inhaled breath after breath, savoring the feelings. I closed my eyes and just breathed.

I opened my eyes once more to survey the room I was in. It was bigger, whiter and directly ahead was a tree stump. I recoiled at the sight of it.

I stood up and began to walk over to it. Once I reached it I put my hand on a small patch of moss. Flies began t escape out of the tree and swarmed towards me, engulfing my entire body until I couldn’t breathe without inhaling one of them.

I was forced to take a breath and I took in a fly. I ran away as the other flies dispersed leaving me confused. I had been here for less than 5 minutes and I already screwed up. I blinked once; I was ‘teleported’ over to the tree stump. I was sitting on it. I looked down to see what looked like a chess board but I knew otherwise. It was for a game of Go, and if I looked up I knew exactly what I would see…or rather who.

I slowly turned my head up to look at the creature before me. His mouth stained black, silvery teeth jutted out this way and that, his head and torso covered and wrapped in cloth. He twisted his head as he looked at me.

“I’m going to kill all of them, Stiles.” He sneered in his rough, toying voice. He chuckled and looked back down to move a piece on the game board, capturing a few of my pieces.

“No, you’re not.” I growled back, “They are safe, you’re gone. We captured and hid you. You’re not going to come back here and take my life away, again.” I added with a small gulp. I gasped as he leaned forwards, whispering in my ear.

“Your turn.”

I back away from him as I looked down to consider my options. I shifted one of the white pieces forwards.

I stood up and ran away from the board as he surrounded my pieces once again. He growled and limped after me. He always caught up and managed to get in front of me before I even realized he was close.

He roared at me and a black smoke billowed out of his mouth and chased after me. This was how the Nogitsune first possessed me. The smoke caught up and flowed into my mouth, taking over everything I had. He knocked me back to the darkest corner of my mind. I punched the figurative walls and tried to escape. I hate the feeling of not being able to control any bit of your body. I hated the feeling of being to helpless, to myself. I hated the feeling that if the Nogitsune walked me over to a mirror I wouldn’t see myself I would see one of my alters, I would see the Nogitsune, I never truly saw myself.

Who am I to call ‘me’ when everybody that looks back at ‘me’ in something reflective is never really me? When it’s Dusza, or Percy, or…Stwo- I mean the Nogitsune standing in front of a mirror that’s never me. Even when I am myself I never see just me, I see a freak, I see someone whose heart is as cold as ice, someone who’s ready to sacrifice everybody else before himself, that is until the end when he gave up on the world and killed himself to escape the worries and the troubles. I see someone who gave up on trying to fight the fight, to win the war that raged on inside of him. I see someone who let down his friends, I see someone who deserves everything, and I see someone who let go of everything and gave it someone else. I see someone who relinquished all of his guilt, but gave it all to someone else. I see someone who killed people, I see a murderer. I see a killer. I see a schizophrenic person, I see someone who hallucinates his dead father and mother at the corner of every street, yelling at him for killing them. I see someone who is so full of guilt there is no human left in there, there is only monster. I see someone who doesn’t even recognize himself amongst all the strangers in his head. I see everybody but me, I see everything but me.

This is why the Nogitsune possessed me. Not just for the body, for the vessel, but for the guilt I had inside of me. The Nogitsune seeks out pain and preys on it. Just like with Rhys the Nogitsune chose his prey by the amount of pain it has, the amount of strife and chaos it caused or was surrounded by.

I was the best person to be possessed and I often wondered why I wasn’t chosen before.

The mirage was and replaced with another… My Dad appeared and walked over to me, shaking his head in disappointment.

“After all this time, all this good that you _thought_ you were doing, you weren’t doing anything right. You screwed up everything and it got your mother killed, it got me killed, and now it got you killed. Well, you got yourself killed in two manners: You killed yourself from all the screw-ups you had; and from how you ‘couldn’t deal with it anymore’.

“You’re a coward; you couldn’t handle with having a little responsibility. Own up to the things you need to; be a freaking man for once!” He growled and pushed on both of my shoulders sending me to the ground. I began to breathe heavily as all the air was knocked out of me. My chest began to close up as the oncoming feelings of a panic attack arose.

Dad walked forwards, picked me up by my shirt and tossed me back down once more. I looked up at him, silently pleading that this isn’t how my reunion with him was going to be.

“What –what are you even doing here? In Hell, I mean.” I asked, trying to divert any and all attention away from the beating that was sure to come.

“Hell is a place where your worst fears come alive; I am one of your fears.” He said simply and I gulped. Dad wasn’t one of my fears; however what he did to me was.

 _Please…no…_ I think helplessly as he picked me up once more and began to beat on my face. His fist never stopped pulling back and then going back again and again. My father being one of my fears was even worse than any of the torment I had gone through earlier.

The beatings went on for hours, the aching pain never stopped. But after a while Dad disappeared and was replaced with Liam McMyre.

“Oh shit,” I said softly as I was brought into a new room. One much like the room Liam brought me to on the night of my first full moon.

“Oh shit is right, Stiles.” Liam said with a smirk. “Oh shit is right…” He trailed off and snapped his fingers. I was brought up and onto a long metal table. My arms and legs were strapped down. I twisted around violently and tried to get out of the thick leather straps that bound me to the fate I quite honestly deserved.

“Let’s get started, shall we?’ Liam said and without waiting for an answer from me began to cut off my shirt. He chuckled softly and tore it off, leaving my bare chest exposed.

Without hesitation he picked up a small jagged knife and dug into my skin. I screamed in pain as he twisted the knife in and deeper into the tender skin of my stomach.

“STOP!” I pleaded in hope that he would relieve me of the burning pain that was caused. He only chuckled softly and removed the blade. He picked up a long thing knife, and began to glide it across my skin. The blade dug in just a little bit, but it was pushed in enough to cut me. I winced and gritted my teeth, trying so very hard not to cry out. The pain was never enough for Liam and he picked up a small bucket and pinched a bit of the contents before throwing it into the already painful wounds.

Not knowing what was coming I could only look on as the small white grains of something were thrown into the wounds. They burned and sizzled. I cried out again and again, the searing agony ripping through me.

“Salt,” he said, “salt on a wound…” He chuckled and picked up a small key. He unlocked the latches on my legs and on my feet.

“Wh-What are you doing?” I asked my voice shaking like mad. The pain of sitting up and swinging my feet was unbearable as both require the muscles in my torso to stretch and move.

“Stiles, you and I both know that you’re getting nothing out of me. The funny thing about this is that if your friends ever try to do a spell and get you out of here the wounds you’ve got know will stay with you. No healing is going to save you from these wounds.” Liam said smiling an evil smile at me. He turned around to grab something and then fast as lighting hit the small blunt object against my head. I let out a small yelp as I fell the ground, unconscious.

After swimming around in the darkness of my mind for what felt like hours I woke up back to the torture that was my new life. My hands were tied behind me; my feet were bound to the bottoms of the chair. I looked up to look around. I was in a new room now, one that looked like a crappy basement. Liam entered the room through a door that was towards my left.

I sighed and tried to sit up straight so my muscle wouldn’t tighten up. Looking down on the floor I now noticed a long hose winding around a small table that held all of the torturous instruments. 

Liam walked over to me and picked up the hose, he snapped his fingers and a bucket appeared. I had forgotten for a moment that I was in Hell and anything could happen.

He snapped his fingers again and a nozzle appeared on the end of the hose, so he could now control how much water came out and at what speed. He put down the hose and walked over to the table where he picked up two gloves and put them on his hands.

 _Oh, God…_ I thought as a small thought formed in my mind. Liam walked back over to the hose and tapped his foot twice, the hose switched on. Yet he didn’t pull the handle yet and tapped his foot again. The bucket filled up with water and then ice cubes appeared.

“You see Stiles; I’m not actually coming up with any of these…ideas. You are, you read them somewhere and I’m tapping into your mind where I can access your fears an’ torture is one of them, this form specifically.” Liam’s words glided across the room and over to me. He stepped closer and smiled coyly before letting my fears come to life. I yelled out as the searing hot water burned against my skin.

The pain never stopped and the water kept coming, the temperature rose and rose. I screamed until my voice was hoarse and it hurt to even breathe. After what seemed like hours of the intense pain came even more. Liam darted over to the bucket and splashed to cold, cold water on me. The heat was replaced with cold and my skin –which was already covered in welts- tightened up around my form. I yelled and tried to shake the ice cubes off of me but that only hurt even more.

Liam continued this three more times and by the time he was done I was left a gasping mess. I pleaded with him to stop, I tried to get him to stop with the boiling water and eventually he said yes.

He stopped with the water and took away the hose and bucket. I silently thanked him, not that I should be. Liam walked back over to me and took out the long slender knife he had cut me with before. He chuckled cruelly and then pulled out a lighter. I gulped as he heated up the knife; he waited until it burned a bright red-orange.  He let out a manic laugh and the pressed the burning blade against my chest, leaving it there to burn my skin. I howled in pain and wished with all my might that someone would come and rescue me.

I had read stories that 1 month topside was equal to ten years in Hell and the way time was moving it sure felt like it was true. Then as if he could read my mind –which he probably could- Liam spoke.

“You’re right,” He paused and took the blade off. I winced at the sudden change in temperature as the cool air rushed to meet the wound. “Time up above is much, much slower than it is down here. Roughly 45 seconds down here is equal to 1 second up there. Also, one month up on Earth is about 10 years down here.” Liam said, his voice growing with excitement.

“You’ve been down here for a day, roughly. Which means that you only been gone for about 30 minutes up there,” Liam shouted in my face. I took the time to process all of this new information, my worst fears coming true. No one was going to realize that I was gone. I closed my eyes, wishing it all away. I heard the sound of air whooshing and looked back up to look for Liam. He was gone, replaced with a new body.

“No…” I whispered under my breath, hoping that this wasn’t the truth.

“Stiles! Hey, buddy. You liking your stay down here so far? How’s that chair? It doesn’t look to comfortable.” The voice said, taunting me.

“C’mon, please, just stop,” I begged but the voice didn’t give up that easily. He picked up the blade once more, taking out another lighter and heating up the blade.

“I made first line again,” The voice said leaning in. “Got the news less than 5 minutes ago. Team Captain, too. How great is that? While you’re down here suffering, I’m living my life. Stiles Stilinski is burning in Hell while Scott McCall is up living a better life than you could’ve ever lead.” Scott growled in my ear. He pulled back and looked at his hand. He flicked out one finger, a claw on the end. He grabbed my face and forced me to look up at him. He pulled the claw down the side of my cheek, my neck, my arms, and my chest. The blood dripped down and began to dry. The blood from the wounds with the salt in them had been washed clean after the water; the blood had been carried away.

“You know Lydia will cry, Isaac will cry, Scott will cry, Derek will cry buckets and buckets. He liked you, you know?” Scott said and my head perked up. “Oh, Derek’s a sore spot for you,” Scott chuckled. “Yeah, he really liked you but you know he’s 25 and you’re 18, but you can admire can’t you?” Scott said and grabbed my face again; all of his claws were out and digging into my skin. I saw the blood dribble out and onto his hands. He released my chin and cheek with a jerk of his hand. “You’ve let them all down. It’s Derek that I worry about the most, Stiles. Derek Hale is definitely in danger…”

I roared with all my might, pushed Scott away. “You’re not real! This isn’t real, none of this.” I yowled to anyone who would hear. “This is not real! None of this! I am dead, you’re not real!” I cried out and Scott looked down at me, tutting.

“I may not be real, but I can still hurt you and that Stiles Stilinski is most certainly real.”


	3. Mourning, Grieving, Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I was caught up with family issues and stuff, sorry again! Please enjoy this chapter!

Chapter three

Mourning, grieving, guilt

Scott

 

“Stiles!” I screamed as I leaned over the edge to watch my best-friend plummet to his death. The tears refused to cease as I ran over to the hatch and down the ladder back into the building. My feet flew as I pounded down the stairs, ten flights of them. My chest burned, but I left my supernatural healing to take care of that. Lydia was a flight or two of stairs behind me; her breaths were more like choked sobs. I got many worried looks as I passed people. I was two flights away so I vaulted down over the railings and onto the floor. I winced as I heard the bone in my ankle snap. I waited no more than five seconds before I was up and running again. I pushed the door open and ran out into the lobby before I crashed through the doors again and into the sidewalks. I looked around for some sort of crowd suggesting a suicide had just taken place. I spotted a small crowd and staggered over to it, my mind blurring with the thoughts of what I would see.

“Please, let me through. He’s my friend,” I slurred as I pushed through the throng of people. I saw the crumpled, broken body of my lifelong friend. Someone else was holding the shattered hand, opposite me. I looked up and followed the arm to the body and the body to the face. I saw Derek crouching low, tears dropping from his cheeks and onto the pavement.

Stiles’ body lay on the ground, arms and legs bent in odd ways. I looked over to his face to see his eyes staring up into the grey sky, looking but not seeing.

“NO!” I roared and pulled his body closer. The people around put comforting hands on my back but they were of no use. From around the corner a stretcher appeared, the sound of ambulance sirens filled my ears as I let the sounds of life filter back in. Lydia’s shoes appeared in the corner of my eyes as she pulled me away.

“No,” I gasped not letting Stiles hand go, even as they picked him up and onto the stretcher to be loaded into the ambulance and taken to the hospital. “No, please, God, no,” I whispered as I curled up into a small ball. Lydia crouched down low and pulled me in close. I was shaking uncontrollably. Lydia whispered in my ear, saying how it was all going to be okay; I knew it wasn’t. Derek stayed; he had stood up and was leaning against the wall of the building, trying his hardest not to look at the blood that had spread across the sidewalk. I looked at my hands, Stiles’ blood covered them. A car pulled up besides us, without looking over at it I could tell that it was Stiles’. The light blue color stood out in my peripheral vision. I put my head in my hands and began to let all the anger and grief out.

My face had now been coated with the liquid that is thicker than water. Stiles’ scent lay on the ground and in the blood and I inhaled as much as I could, I was determined to never let the smell go. I was determined to never let my home go away. Lydia helped me stand up, I caught the feeling of walking and getting into the car but I don’t remember doing it. I sat in the back seat, I listened to the silence until it was unbearable.

“Please, put on the radio,” I said and everyone understood the words I didn’t say directly: “ _Please, get rid of the silence that leaves me to my thoughts, my thoughts of Stiles…”_ I listened as Isaac clicked on the radio and a country-ish song came on. I listened as it started up, I groaned at the song. It was _Dust in the Wind_ by _Kansas._ Not that I didn’t like the song –which I did –I just can’t bear to listen to the words. The song speaks of how everybody is just dust, waiting for the wind to come and blow you away until you are nothing but a memory. It says that nothing lasts forever, about how to never hang on because all you can do is wait for the imminent wind to come and blow everybody away, until all you are is the vaguest memory in the back of everyone’s mind. How everything just slips away, because ‘all we are is dust in the wind, everything is dust in the wind’ and we can’t do anything to stop that from happening to everyone around us. 

 The rest of the evening was a blur, Lydia had left to go and claim Stiles’ body so that way no one else would; I had stayed to bargain with the world.

I was at the Hale House; I walked into the kitchen to wash my hands of the blood of my pack mate, and brother. My hands were shaking as I walked out of the room and onto the deck. I leapt up and onto the wooden railing before I jumped off and into the grass. The grey skies had turned even darker, hinting that rain would soon fall.

“Why?” I asked softly, waiting for an answer that I was sure was going to come, for an answer that I wanted to come, an answer I needed to come. But I was met with silence once more.

I let out a roar of pain, of anger, of sadness, and the skies returned that same roar with a crack of lightning and a boom of thunder. The rain began to fall, then it began to pour.

“Stiles, I’m sorry! Please, I know that if I had only gotten you help that you’d still be here. If I had listened to you then you wouldn’t have had to go and do – do what you did!” I shouted up into the sky. The rain fell around me, until I was soaked to the bone. My hair fell into my face and into the view of my eyes. I closed my eyes as I waited for the moment that Stiles came bounding down from the Heaven to tell me it was alright, but that moment never came. I listened to the sound of lighting striking nearby and thunder crashing moments after it.

_Even the Heavens cry for him…_

I sat out there in that cold, cold rain knowing that I deserved the shivering feeling it gave me. I stood up and readjusted my sitting position. I sat down on my feet, so that was I was kneeling. I leaned over and put my hands in my face and I let the rain blend in with my tears. The best time to cry is when no-one can tell that you are.

I heard the sound of grass squishing under somebody’s feet but I ignored them until they got close enough for me to see their shoes. The rain was washing away any hopes of me catching a scent and identifying the person who stood before me. I waited for them to say something but all they did was shift their arm and press a button. An umbrella opened above me and I was sheltered from the rain that had begun to appear torrential. I looked up to see that Derek stood there; his own tears blending in with the rain but I knew the look. Red, puffy eyes were a sure sign that you had/were crying. I stood up and smiled sadly at him. He returned the smile, and even though it looked broken it still meant something.

He closed the umbrella and gestured towards the sliding glass door that lead into the house from the deck. I began walking towards it, Derek not far behind me. I walked up the stairs onto the deck and then into the living room which connected the deck to the house. I noticed two towels on the table and walked over to pick one up, tossing the other to Derek as he walked in behind me. I began to dry off myself as I continued to drip pools of water into the carpet.

“Why don’ t you go take a shower?” Derek suggested, “Or at least go change your clothes.” He offered and I smiled weakly.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” I responded and toed off my shoes into a corner. I walked up the stairs and into the larger bedroom, I continued into the bathroom that it held and over to the shower. I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the warm water that welcomed me like a nice hug that a close friend would’ve once offered. Everything around me reminded of a memory of Stiles or just of Stiles. There wasn’t a room in this house that didn’t have a memory. Tonight I would sleep in his room, I had decided. I stood in the water for a solid half an hour until I had used up all the warm water. I turned off the shower and stepped out into the steamy room. I put on the new clothes I had brought in. I stepped out of the bathroom and down back into the living room. Derek was already down there. Guessing that from the scent of his shampoo he had just taken a shower in the guest bathroom. I ruffled my hair and walked over to the smaller armchair that sat besides the long sofa.

Derek looked over at me and sniffed the arm, smiling warmly at the scent he was greeted with. I had used Stiles’ shampoo in an effort to preserve the boy for as long as I could. Derek stood up and I did the same, waiting for some sort of warning as to what was going on.

“I miss him, too,” He said suddenly. “I know he’s only been gone less than two hours but I miss him already.” Derek added. I whined a little, not a very ‘alpha-ish’ move. Derek understood the sound; it was the sound of grief and of lack of touch. He walked towards me and opened his arms just the tiniest bit. I met him in the middle of the room and pulled him into a close embrace. Derek never was one for human contact but we both loved Stiles so very, very much and his-his…recent choices were those of uniqueness. It could never be done again and that was something that I had realized early on, once you’re gone you never get to come back. Which I suppose in a way is good, because if you can never come back then you never have the misfortune of screwing up again.

I released Derek and he pulled away too. I looked up at the older Alpha; he smiled and then suggested that I rest for a while, even though it was only 3:00 PM.

I nodded and then trudged upstairs and instead of turning right into my room I turned left to where Derek’s room was and Stiles’ room – err, old room was. I walked toward the room and opened the door, letting his smell waft over me. I took in the scent until it was stuck in my memory forever. I pulled back the sheets on his bed and crawled in, breathing in my brothers scent until it lulled me to sleep. Family is the best thing that can ever happen to you, but what are you supposed to do when your family is dead?

 

 

I woke up many hours later, I rolled over to look at my alarm clock only to find that it wasn’t there. I turned on my phone and looked at the time: 7:14 AM. I had slept the entire night! How could I have not woken up considering – I stopped my thinking for a moment when all of the events of yesterday rushed back leaving me winded and full of guilt.

Slowly I sat up, groaning at the thought of moving and having a social life today. All I wanted to do was stay in bed and be sad. My phone began to buzz with the sounds of an incoming phone call. I looked to the screen to read the contact name. It was my Mom so I had to pick it up.

“Yeah, what’s up Mom?” Shakily I asked. I heard hushed whispers on the other line, some that I probably weren’t supposed to hear. “Mom, what’s wrong?” I asked, pushing aside all feelings for Stiles and focusing on the last remaining part of my real family, not my pack.

“Honey, I need you to come down to the Hospital. Now.” She said her voice shaking. I gulped knowing what I would be met with down there, I went anyways.

I hopped into Stiles’ Jeep and made my way down into the streets. I traveled along the back roads until I found the one that led to the Hospital parking lot. I parked the jeep and ran inside, smiling to the nurses that I passed. Pretty much everybody knew me around here, and if I didn’t smile they would figure something was wrong.

I turned the corner and made my way to the elevator, slamming the button for going up. I prayed that no one would be in there once I got in, for I didn’t want to talk to anybody but the people I absolutely needed to. The door clunked open and I walked into the empty metal box. I pressed the button to close the doors, so that way no one could get in on that floor and then pressed the button for the third floor where Mom worked.

I waited the minute that it took for the elevator to get up and then waited once more as the door slowly opened. I raced out and then over to the desk where Mom usually worked.

Tamara was working there instead of my Mom. I walked over to her.

“Hey Tam, have you seen my Mom?” I asked and she nodded slowly and sadly. She put her finger up, signaling that she needed a minute as the phone rang. She picked it up and then looked over to me, mouthing the word: _Morgue._

My blood ran cold as my worst fears came true, yesterday wasn’t a dream and Stiles really was…gone. I felt the tears form again in my eyes but I refused to let them spill over as I made my way down the hallways.

I followed the signs that had little words and arrows painted on them. I followed the words Morgue and the arrows directing me to wherever that room is. I looked around the room as I entered, hated the harsh scent of decaying bodies that hit my super sensitive nose. I scrunched back, waiting for the smell to become better smelling to his nose. I looked around and walked towards the door, there was another room connecting off this one. I pulled down the slender, silver handle and pulled the door open. It creaked as it swung backwards, leaving the doorway open.

Slowly I entered, shutting the door behind me. I spotted my mom standing over a small platform, one that held a body. She was sobbing, her shoulders moving back and forth as another sob racked through her. I walked over to her and put my arms around her.

I could smell the sadness coming off of her in wave; the whole room was filled with it. I pulled away, my cheeks stained with small tears. I walked away from her and towards the clip on the end of platform.

“They performed an autopsy?” I asked, my voice shaking. I looked up to my mom as I looked over the paper, reading what injuries he had. I gulped as I made my way farther down the list.

“Yes, they did. But he healed after they left; his body is still trying to heal itself…” She said. I looked up and wondered if maybe we should’ve taken him home instead of bringing him back here. Mom sensed the unheard question and nodded sadly. I put two hands on the edge of the platform and wheeled him out.

I brought it into the elevator and then slipped out the back door way. I looked up at the cameras, knowing that my reflective eyes would make it appear as if a laser were being pointed at it. I turned back and brought Stiles to the car.

I drove off and without thinking anything I headed towards an old abandoned field. But it was over 50 miles away. This field was Stiles’ favorite when we were kids; his dad would take us out to light off fireworks. A couple years back the wheat and corn had burned down, leaving the ground uninhabitable for crops. This would be where I would bury Stiles.

I texted Derek the coordinates then continued my drive in silence. The old jeep clunked and sighed as we made our way down the desolate highway.

_Should I bring the rest of the pack? –DH_

I read the text as it came in. I looked up the opened the phone to respond.

  1.  _–SM_



_All of them? –DH_

_Yeah Derek they need to be here –SM_

_Scott what are you even doing? –DH_

_I am doing what’s right. Meet me there –SM_

_Scott the packs worried about you they need their alpha…you sure you’re okay? –DH_

_Yeah I’m fine… -SM_

_Just meet me there. –SM_

I shut my phone off and continued driving. I made my way down towards the crops; even though I was still 20-25 miles away, I could smell the scent of the crops. I could feel the dirty, ashen ground beneath my feet. I could remember the feel of home; because my home was always right beside me. But now I had to bury him.

Even though it felt as if I had only driven for a few minutes I snapped back to reality as I recognized a familiar landmark. I looked for the small side road and drove down it. I continued to head deep into the back woods before turning right and heading into the field. I got out and went towards the trunk of the jeep, pulling out a shovel and heading towards a clearing. The grass had begun to grow back, but the ground still was covered in grey/brown earth.

I took a deep breath then shoved the shovel down deep into the earth and then pulled it up and out; a thick layer of ashen earth coming up with it. I closed my eyes and remembered the measurements, I then proceeded to continue and lay those out onto the ground mentally. I dug across, I dug down, and I dug until I was done. I didn’t tire out as I had my lycanthrope abilities, but if I was deprived of those then I would’ve been put out of action ages ago; asthma and all.

I heard the sweet, low rumble of the Camaro as it rambled down the road. The burning, bright orb of a sun sat up in the sky, its rays seared down into my dark clothes.  The car door opened as I turned my head back to see who was in that car. I heard the heavy wheeze of another car as Jackson’s Porsche was forced to go over the dirt path, which it was _not_ made for.

Before Jackson had left for England he had given the car which he loved like a child to Lydia. He had also let her keep the key to his house for sentimental reasons. 

I crawled up and out of the pit, walking over to Stiles’ jeep – old jeep. I opened up the trunk and picked up the cloth covered body. I heard a small gasp and caught a few small concerned looks.

“We’re doing this right, and we’re doing it here.” I growled, mostly to cover up the obvious fact that I would be screaming, kicking, and crying if I were alone to just my thoughts.

Those are the most dangerous things you can be left to, not a torturer, not a murderer, not a bomb, not anything exceed the dangers of thoughts. See, when you are left to your own thoughts they are your own, you can’t blame them on anyone else, you can find some way to wiggle yourself out of being the cause of them. Anything and everything that you think is you, even if you’re echoing something that someone else said you weren’t forced to think it. That’s something that’s called free will, and sometimes it’s good, but others it can be bad. When you’re grieving, even if it’s over something small, your thoughts are amplified. Everything you think or hear you take a whole new meaning to.

 Take a song for example, any song; modern or old. Now imagine that you’re sad and really _listen_ to the words, don’t just hear them. As a famous author once said, “You see but you do not observe.” He was right. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had never spoken truer words. Because not only does that apply to your sight but it applies to every sense that you have. Because everybody can see, blind or not, it’s up to you to observe. It’s up to you to re-examine the facts, to check over again until they start to make sense because nothing is ever as it seems. So when you’re left to your thoughts, when you are left to observe, to really, truly _observe_ then you start to notice things you wouldn’t have before. Because when you are grieving, left alone to your thoughts, and observing you tend to take things the wrong way. As in: you start to blame yourself. Most of the time it’s far easier to blame someone else, to shove off all of your problems and give them to someone else, but other times it’s easier to blame yourself. It’s easier when you’re going through what I am to blame yourself, to just think, “I did this to them,” to think, “If only I had been there for them,” because the guilt and the madness death brings is enough to make a sane man go crazy. Because when you’re at a loss for words and all you’re left to is to think things but never say them then things go downhill.

This is why you should never leave a grieving person to their thoughts: it makes them go a little crazy, and if you were in their shoes then you’d go crazy too. What are you supposed to do when the only thing you can rely on to speak the truth is yourself - is the little voice in your head, but even that is lying to you?


	4. What am I supposed to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that it has taken me so long to update! I promise to get better at it, and I've already started the next chapter so it should be up sooner rather than later.

Chapter four

What am I supposed to do?

Lydia

 

The words that were spoken had no meaning to me, the words and actions that were directed at me and everyone besides me had no effect. I was left watching as Derek walked over to me, rubbed my shoulder and then led me over to the small hole that held the body of my best friend. I kneeled down, picking up some of the dirt and sprinkling it over the body. 

“Stiles,” I started, gathering up the courage to speak in front of the rest of the pack. “You bastard,” I choked out, “Thank you. Thank you for being there for me Stiles and I’m sorry. Jesus, Stiles I am sorry that I wasn’t there for you when you needed me the most. I’m sorry for betraying your trust and abandoning you, I’m sorry for brushing you off and I’m sorry that it took you – you dying for me to say these things. I’m sorry that I never realized the lessons you had taught me until it was too late. So thank you, thank you for teaching me that it takes death to get noticed. But Stiles that wasn’t the only lesson you taught me, you taught me that I wasn’t needing all of the things I had, that what I really needed was my family. I thank you for teaching me that I needed my family – that I need my family. 

“Stiles, your family left you when you were too young to understand that the rest of your family was still here, that we never left you. I am sorry that you never realized that and I am sorry that you were forced to commit this dirty deed because you had no hope. I am sorry that you had lost all faith in life, that you had lost faith in yourself. Because I know that it is so much easier to just give up than to fight for your life, than to fight for anything. I know that it’s so much easier to just give up; I know that it’s so much easier to walk than to run. 

“Walking is exactly like taking the slow easy path, but if you run, if you fight for that spot in first place in the race of life then you can complete anything. Even if you don’t win it’s good to know that you tried, rather than quit. So Stiles, even though you lost the race, I know that you fought, that you fought long and hard for the things that you deserved and even still in the end you didn’t even get that. Life has never been fair, but that’s something that you just have to learn to live with, it’s not going to be easy but then if it was you would be here with us instead of down there in that hole. You would be up here having a laugh and you’d be graduating High School, you wouldn’t be staying here while the rest of us continue. But life isn’t easy and I think that had you realized that earlier then you would’ve stayed with us, you would’ve known that it’s not just you who has it hard, because life would never let any of us off the hook that easily. 

“So Stiles, I want you to know that I forgive you for taking the easy path, I want you to know that even though you gave up…you were still a fighter in my heart, in our hearts. I trust that throughout the rest of our lives you will guide us to be fighters, to _never_ take the slow, easy path. I trust that you will guide us away from the mistakes that you made, because not only were you someone to learn from, but you were someone to be _taught_ from. 

“You were always there for us, even if we never returned the favor, and I know that you felt as if the entire world had turned its back on you, but it didn’t. We were always there; ready to differentiate from the rest of the world. Because you’re our family and nothing you say, nothing that ever happens would change that. We accept you for anything you are, for anything that you told us. I know this because I feel this too, and it may feel like it’s the first time I’m telling you this but it’s true, Stiles it’s true. So I want you to remember that I accept you, that we accept you and no space between us will cause that to cease. That even though you may not be here with us, you will always watch over us. Stiles I know that this wasn’t how you wanted it to end, but I know that this won’t just be the end, and if I’ve learned anything from books, from movies, from life then I know that it won’t just end like that, because it may have been the end of a life but it was not the end of a story.

“So I thank you, I thank you for being a teacher, a student, a fighter, and most importantly a friend, a brother, a lover. You were more important than you would have ever realized and we can never show that enough. We can never thank you enough. Thank you Stiles, thank you.” I spoke soft and quiet, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I could even realize what they were saying. It was as if the death of a close friend had inspired me to take things to heart, to get a deeper meaning out of them. 

I slowly stood back up, brushed off the dirt and wiped off the tears before walking over to the spot where I once stood. Everyone looked over towards me, I looked back. 

“Lyds,” a breathless wolf uttered. I turned my head to look over at Scott, who had been the one to speak. 

“Yes?” I asked my voice still shaky. Derek coughed and peered at me like I should already know what apparently the entire pack was thinking. I lowered my head, not ready to look into the tear filled eyes of the pack. 

“ _Thank you…”_ Scott’s voice rang out, soft and broken. Scott was obviously the one who had taken this the worst. Everybody standing around here was affected, even Allison who wasn’t too close to him. 

Derek pulled me in close, affection breaking through the hard outer crust that he had fought so hard to put up, to hide away in. After everything that Derek had been through, losing a best friend – no, a pack member- wasn’t something he deserved. It was not something any one deserved. 

Derek stepped forwards, said a few words that even the werewolves couldn’t hear and then stepped back wiping the dirt off of his hands and onto his pants. Allison also went up to Stiles’ grave and put a few handfuls of dirt onto the body. Isaac and Scott did the same, except Scott lingered. Before he stood up and shoved his hands into his pockets he angrily gripped the grass that grew around the rim of the grave. 

He said his thanks and took his hands out of his pockets a small white object tumbling out and onto the ground. I rushed forwards to grab it as Scott made his escape to the Jeep to grab a shovel. But being who I am I instead put a hand on his shoulder, and with the other shoved the paper into my own pocket. 

I heard the sound of the Camaro go off and dust rise up into the air. Derek pulled out and back to the main highway, leaving me and Allison- as Isaac had gone with Derek- to take the Porsche and Scott to take the Jeep. 

I sat on the hood of Stiles’ Jeep, which he called Roscoe, hesitating opening the paper. But I fought the urges and resided to opening it as soon as I got home. 

I watched as Scott put shovel after shovel of dirt into the deep pit, and I waited. I listened to the sounds of his heavy breathing, the soft words of encouragement from Allison as she stood to the side, the wind rustling the tall grass that hid this secret ceremony. Slowly the hole filled up, and Scott was ready to go home. 

_“I’m going to go with Scott.”_ Allison mouthed across to me as she rubbed circles on Scott’s back. I nodded knowingly, telling her that I’d go back to my house and relax. 

“ _We can hang tomorrow?”_ She asked, without really asking. I nodded and again and made my way to my car. The Jeep rumbled to life and took off, while I sat in the front seat. My hands gripped 10 and 2 on the steering wheel. I lowered my head and rested my forehead on the top of the wheel. As I took a deep breath I began to wonder what got me to where I am now, what got my friends in the deep shit they were in now, and I realized that it was only their own faults. It was my fault. It was Scott’s. It was Stiles’. It was Derek’s. It was everybody’s fault in their own little way. 

My eyes made their way over to the freshly dug and filled hole, the dirt on top different that the dirt and earth around it. I sighed at how long it would take for the rest of the world to adjust around the death of Stiles. It would take me a while, it would take Scott ages, and it would take Derek forever. 

So yeah it would take a while for the people closest to the fallen to get their life back in order, but what about the _world_ around them? It’s not going to take half as long. The grass above the body, above the freshly moved dirt, would take a few weeks to grow back. It would cover up the body, cover up any and all traces that someone was once buried there. The world doesn’t take half as long to recover from a death than any human does, and that’s just awful. It really makes you think that _you mean nothing._ Because if the world goes on spinning right on around you then you really haven’t done much, have you? If you don’t make people stop and think about how you are gone and are _never coming back_ then you never made your mark on the world. 

So maybe Stiles didn’t mean much to that many people but he meant everything to me, he meant the world to Derek, he was Scott’s family, and that’s good enough. 

I slammed my fist on the dash board. “NO!” I screamed. “That’s not good enough! A life should never be just: ‘good enough’!” I said going back on my own thoughts. “Stiles was just a human, a fragile life hanging in the balance of something bigger than him, bigger than me, and he got caught up in it! He got swept into the winds of a hurricane that blazed through the entire universe, because everything is bigger than us! 

“Everything is always going to be one step ahead of us, because the world isn’t fair! Nothing is ever fair…” 

So I did the only thing I could do right then: I took out the paper. 

It was a note. 

I recognized the scribbles of Stiles’ hand, the messy scrawl he called handwriting. So I read it, and this is what it said: 

 

**Hey Scott,**

**How are you doing? Never mind the formalities, by the time that you’re reading this I will probably have already jumped. So I’m sorry about that, but it was for a good reason. Who am I to object to myself? So this is what I’m doing, writing a suicide note. Man, I never thought it would come to this. I never thought I would do this to you, and man…man I’m sorry. I’m sorry Scott.**

**So I realize that this is not going like the typical suicide note typically does, but I’m Stiles freaking Stilinski, when have I ever gone for typical? So Scott I want you to never change, you got that? You keep pushing on and you go and live a normal life with Allison. You tell her that you need her and you better hope that she’ll put up with you for long enough for you two to grow old together, you got that? I’m expecting to be an Uncle; I want at least two nephews and one niece. Make it happen, wolf-boy.**

**There is one last thing that I need you to do, talk to Lydia. Tell her I’m sorry; tell her that I wish I had been there for her, and that I had been a better friend. Tell her that I wished it hadn’t come to this and if I could go back and change what past-Stiles did then I would, I would change the history so fast you would think I was the Flash.**

**Also, I lied I need you to talk to Derek. Tell him that I miss him, and all that crazy gush-y sappy stuff that you tell the one may or may not have liked… But enough of that, I think it’s that I’ve said goodbye. I wish I could have done this in person but I don’t have the courage of an Alpha Werewolf, but more like the cowardice of an Omega. So live well and don’t forget me.**

**I’ll see you soon,**

**Stwór z** **_ś_ ** **mier** **_ć_ **

 

I looked up, silently folding the paper and putting it into my coat pocket. One thought echoed around my head: Stwór z śmierć? Who was that? _What_ was that? I mumbled under my breath and shifted gears, sending the car into reverse. I pulled out of the dirt path of a road and then shifted into drive. I paused for a moment before I continued driving down the road. The dirt kicked up behind me, creating a trail that even the most amateur sleuth could follow. 

My mind kept wandering kept disappearing to worlds beyond. I didn’t mind it, daydreaming, that is. A way to help clear out your mind, help get a better understanding of why things are the way they are. 

The long road seemed daunting, desolate, and confusing. Memories and thoughts kept poking into my head and distracting me from ignoring the world. A fork appeared in the road and I chuckled softly. There is _always_ a fork in the road, some type of trick meant to trip you up, meant to make you stumble and fall.  

I sighed, knocked out all of the thoughts that I didn’t need and continued down the road. I pulled out of the country-like surroundings and more towards the city. I made my way to a main highway, 

I gently pushed down on the gas pedal, accelerating until I hit ten miles per hour above the speed limit, not wanting to put another body in the ground I slowed down before I went to fast. 

I pulled off of the highway and onto some of the smaller roads. I turned onto Scott’s road and into his driveway, making sure to avoid the blue Jeep and Melissa’s car. I opened the door with shaking hands and made my way out and up onto the doorway. I lifted my hand up and gently rapped on the wooden door, knowing that if there were anyway werewolves in the house they would hear the gentle knock. 

The door opened but I wasn’t invited in. Scott stumbled over to the couch; Derek sat on the chair opposite him. I walked in, closing the door behind me. I toed off my shoes and walked down the hallway in thin socks. As softly as I could I sat down on the couch and leaned into Scott’s arms, he needed comfort right now. He murmured a deep rumble deep in his throat; he inched closer and strung his arms around my shoulders. Derek offered a weak smile as he noticed the comforting gesture. 

Scott opened his mouth to say something but the words got stuck in his throat. He attempted to clear his air-way but it didn’t do him much good as he started off his sentence with, “Stiles – hmm, Stiles is, uh, Stiles is…“ Like he couldn’t get the words out… 

“He’s gone, Scott.” Derek deadpanned, and I snapped my head up to look at him, silently scolding him. I figured now might be a good time to give Scott the note, shield the awkward tension that had filled the room. I dug my hand down into my pocket, ignoring the glances I received from the two men. I pulled out the small paper and handed it to Scott. 

“You dropped this at the burial.” I explained as he opened the small piece of crumpled paper. His eyes flicked back and forth over the words, barely registering them before he moved onto the next. 

As he finished the last line, his eyes shining bright, I began to speak. “Stiles is gone, and he isn’t coming back - ever, because that’s what death brings. It’s awful that it had to happen so soon, but in the end it’s inevitable. I’m so sorry that Stiles had to go through what he did, and that we all have to live on without him, and—“ Scott cut me off as he jumped up from the couch. 

“He’ll be coming back, I’m going to bring him back.” His eyes lit up as he looked from Derek to me. I slowly stood up and reached a hand out gently touch his shoulder. 

“Stiles is gone, Scott, how could you resurrect somebody?” I asked him and his head whipped up from the note he was reading over again. 

“Stwór z śmierć,” he said, smiling from ear to ear. Derek stood up and gently nudged me away. I took a step back, watching how this was going to fold out. 

“Scott,” Derek began, his voice firm and assertive. “Stiles…he is gone. How do — _would_ you even bring him back?” He asked his voice faltering halfway through. 

“He made me promise to never, ever tell anybody about this but…” He trailed off as recollected the story Stiles once told him. “A curse,” he began telling the story that wasn’t his to tell. “A curse that the men of Stiles’ family were forced to wear.” Scott said, motioning for us to sit down. I slowly lowered myself down back onto the couch, Derek and Scott joined me. 

“In the beginning, the Stilinski family originated in Poland.” Scott said and I leaned in, interested in the story. “I never believed the story until I became a werewolf, until I became aware of what was in the shadows.” Scott stopped and looked up from the floor that he had been staring at the past couple seconds. 

“A witch, a man, and a wolf is where the story begins.” 


End file.
